


midnight on the firing line.

by canniballistics



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-03
Updated: 2014-08-03
Packaged: 2018-02-11 15:50:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2074032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/canniballistics/pseuds/canniballistics
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There were no such things as miracles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	midnight on the firing line.

**Author's Note:**

> it's been a while since I watched the TFA deleted scenes, please forgive me if I got this one a little bit wrong.
> 
> prompt was "midnight on the firing line".

The sharp crack of gunfire rang out all around him, rifle reports accompanied by the occasional dull _thud_ of a grenade helping to drown out the sounds of men screaming, of men dying. His pulse was in his ears, back pressed into the hard dirt wall of the trench and eyes upturned as he prayed for a miracle. 

It wasn't supposed to be like this. Sure, he'd known before shipping out that the front line of the war would be a dangerous place. But it had also held a promise of adventure, of romance, of coming home and telling stories of heroism and daring. Not _this_. Not coming face to face with the truth of mortality and not knowing what side he'd come out on. Not watching men he'd trained beside get shot and killed, blood and viscera flying every time another life ended. It wasn't supposed to be like this. It wasn't supposed to _end_ like this.

Where was a miracle when they needed one?

"Barnes! Get up here, you're gonna wanna see this."

He looked up as Dugan shouted his name, saw the man peering over the lip of the trench. Knew for a fact that he _didn't_ want to see whatever it was, but he moved anyway, pulling himself around to follow Dugan's line of sight and hoping they weren't about to get sniped.

Sniping should have been the least of his worries, he realized, and his eyes went wide, unable to pull his gaze away from the tank. Or what he _thought_ was a tank, and when it glowed and released a blast of light, Bucky could only watch in horror as it vaporized the men it hit.

"How the hell're we supposed to fight that?" 

It was only a quiet murmur, mortified as the tank moved, and Bucky could feel the truth hit him like a bucket of icy water: 

There were no such things as miracles.


End file.
